Things Not Said
by notsosecretninja
Summary: Instead of finding love after Dean is taken from him at the end of season 7, Sam slips into catatonia. But not before he makes it to Tony DiNozzo's door. Can Tony figure out to how help Sam come back to the world?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or Supernatural. I'm just borrowing them. Also, I have no actual idea what the park around the Thomas Jefferson Memorial looks like. Any mistakes and inconsistencies are mine.

_Things Not Said_

Tony stumbled into the bull pen looking exhausted. He dropped his bag next to his desk and fell into his chair with a sigh. He rubbed his face with a hand and contemplated whether he had enough energy to go get coffee from the other room. He could make out his reflection in the dim glass of his computer screen, and he grimaced at the pronounced bags under his eyes. With one more swipe at his face, he pushed himself to his feet.

"Another late night, Tony?" Ziva asked. She stopped typing on her computer and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Coffee first. Questions later," he clipped.

"Woah," McGee said, looking up from the file he was studying and staring at Tony with widened eyes.

"What is it, McGeek?" Tony's voice was sharper than he intended.

McGee unconsciously backed away with his hands up in gesture of surrender. "Nothing, man, I just… never mind."

Tony took a step toward McGee's desk. "McGee, if you don't finish that sentence, I swear I'm gonna—"

"Okay, okay," he said, taking a step back. "I was just gonna say that you sounded remarkably like Gibbs just then."

"Oh." Tony sighed and turned toward the break room. He trudged to the machine, grabbed a Styrofoam cup from the dwindling stack to the right, and filled it to the brim. He blew on the black liquid as he returned to his desk. He sat down and took a sip savoring the bitter taste as it slid down his throat. When he looked up from his cup, the two agents were staring at him. He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them.

"What?" he asked tiredly.

"How is your friend doing?" Ziva asked, looking at him with sympathy.

"How do you know this is about Sammy? I'm just tired," he answered.

Ziva put a hand on her hip and looked at him knowingly.

"Sam's fine." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "Or he will be… He's gotten out of his catatonic state, and they're sending him home tomorrow."

"That is good, is it not?" she asked.

"Yeah." He attempted a feeble smile and turned back to his coffee.

Tony didn't bother saying that Sam didn't have a home or any family left to take care of him. Tony didn't mention that Sam would be staying in his tiny apartment for the foreseeable future and that he was in way over his head. He didn't say that he had no idea what to do with a traumatized Winchester, or that it scared him that one of the strongest men he knew was reduced to a silent, haunted shell of a man. Tony would keep those thoughts to himself for now.

Across the room, Ziva and McGee held a silent conversation. After a minute, they shrugged and decided to leave it alone for the moment.

Gibbs listened in from a distance. He decided he would investigate it later. Right now, they had to focus on the dead Marine near the Thomas Jefferson Memorial.

"Grab your bags," he barked, turning the corner.

The three agents startled into action. Tony downed his remaining coffee, slung the bag over his shoulder and grabbed his sidearm. Ziva and McGee grabbed their bags and guns and entered the elevator behind Tony and Gibbs. Ziva won the battle for the car keys, and Tony couldn't help but think that, if the coffee didn't keep him awake, Ziva's driving surely would.

With Ziva at the wheel, the normally 25 minute drive took a measly ten, and Tony and McGee tumbled out of the car, grateful to be on solid ground. Ziva rolled her eyes at them and headed towards the small area surrounded by bright yellow crime scene tape. Gibbs followed close behind, making a beeline for the body while Ziva talked to the first responders and witnesses. McGee staggered after them, and Tony took his time. He retrieved the camera from the trunk of the car, and looked around the park. Trees sparsely populated the areas to the west and north and there was an abandoned swing set to the east. A more heavily wooded area stood to the south.

When he reached the yellow tape, he flashed his badge at an officer and ducked under it. He breathed sharply at the sight of the body. He'd seen a lot of similar tableaus in his career, but this guy was just a kid. Freshly enlisted, going by the markings on the uniform he wore and the extremely close- shaved head. A deep cut slashed across his stomach, and dried blood stained the surrounding area, contrasting with his pale skin. His eyes were open and empty, a sight which reminded Tony of the unceasing, blank stare of Sam Winchester. He shuddered.

"DiNozzo, you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna do your job?" Gibbs asked shortly.

"Sorry, Boss," he said quickly. He closed his eyes and composed himself. He began taking photos of the scene. He saw a partial shoeprint on the edge of the quartered off area. The toe of the shoe pointed to the south. He took a picture of the print, and ducked under the tape to see if he could make out a trail. He followed faint tracks to the edge of the wooded area, where they seemed to disappear. Scouring the ground around him, Tony picked up the trail further into the woods and followed it until the oak and ash trees surrounded him on all sides. He stopped to observe a broken twig more closely, when he heard a rustling sound. He put a hand on his gun.

"Show yourself!" he yelled, trigger finger twitching.

McGee tumbled out into the open, hands slightly raised. "It's just me."

Tony let his hand drop from his holster. "McGee, what are you doing here?"

"I saw you heading this way, and I wondered what you were doing."

"So you decided to sneak up on me and find out?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't exactly trying to keep my presence a secret," Tim replied, shrugging.

Tony huffed and turned back to the tracks. He finally headed south east, McGee trailing behind, and smiled when he heard a few cars whoosh past. He had hoped this park backed up to a street. A street meant traffic lights, and traffic lights meant traffic cameras. Maybe one of them caught a glimpse of the killer. Tony cleared the last of the brush and stepped out on the sidewalk. Perfect. A camera was mounted on a light pole about thirty feet to the left.

McGee was at his side a few seconds later. "How does this impromptu nature walk help with the case?"

"Someone who was around the body ran this way, McGee. Whoever it was passed the sight of this camera," he said, pointing. "We might be able to get a glimpse of him or her on the footage."

"Okay, that's great, but how do you know they went this way? I didn't see any tracks."

"Just because you didn't see them, doesn't mean they weren't there," Tony answered.

McGee felt a little defensive. He was an Eagle Scout and excelled in tracking when going through training to become a NCIS agent. He wasn't about to mention that to Tony, though. He'd probably be dubbed "McScout" for the rest of the month if he did. Shaking his head, he settled for a question. "How'd you get to be such a good tracker?"

Tony couldn't exactly tell McGee that he'd trained under a Marine since he was a kid. That he learned to track things that didn't even leave footprints. That a mere human, even a light-footed one, was nothing compared to the nightmares he was taught to look out for. A half- truth was better then nothing, he decided. "My uncle took me hunting a lot when I was a kid," he answered with a wry smile.

"I wasn't aware your father had a brother."

"DNA doesn't make a person family, McGee. The way they treat each other does." Tony turned back to the woods, suppressing a shudder at the chick- flick worthy moment. "We'd better get back and tell Gibbs what we found," he said, stepping into the trees.

"_You _found it. I just sorta stumbled onto it," McGee insisted, following after him.

"Who cares, McGee? Tell him whatever you want."

They reached the edge of the park when Tony's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. "The hospital," he said in response to McGee's questioning glance.

McGee nodded and jogged over to Gibbs.

Tony flipped his phone open, "DiNozzo here." He listened for a few seconds. "I'll be there in ten minutes," he said, hanging up before the nurse on the other end of the line could finish a sentence. He ran to Ziva and held out his hand. "Sam's in trouble."

Ziva handed him the keys wordlessly, and he sprinted to the car. He drove to the hospital so fast, it put Ziva's driving to shame.

Next time on _Things Not Said_: Semi-catatonic Sam adjusts to his new surroundings and the Team suspects something is going on.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony burst through the doors to the hospital lobby and raced up the stairs to the third floor. He all but threw the door to Sam's hospital room open.

Tony's exuberant entrance doing nothing to capture his attention, Sam stared at the wall opposite his hospital bed with unfocused eyes.

"Sam!" He stepped up to the bedside and grabbed the larger man by his broad shoulders, shaking him a bit. "Not again, man," Tony whispered, arms dropping to his sides. Dropping unceremoniously into the hard- backed chair sitting nearby, Tony ran a hand through his hair and inwardly cursed the dizzying sense of deja vu brought on by the sight of Sam's pale face and blank stare. "They said you were getting better," he grumbled to no one in particular.

_Tony had been so surprised last week when he cautiously opened the door of his apartment to reveal a bedraggled looking Sam standing alone in the threshold. "Sam," he said, brows drawn in confusion. "Where's Dean?" _

_Sam squeezed his eyes shut and visibly composed himself before answering. "I don't know, Tony." He shook his head. "I have no freaking clue," he continued, voice cracking and fists clenching. _

_"Okay, it sounds like we're gonna need the hard stuff," Tony said, mind spinning with questions. _

_"You got that right." A wry grin appeared on Sam's face, replaced by a grim expression a second later._

_"But first," Tony said, pulling a flask out of a hidden pocket in his suit jacket. He took a swing and passed it to Sam. "Best holy water on the east coast," Tony assured him._

_Sam rolled his eyes and took a drink. "Satisfied?" _

_"Not quite. You know the drill," he answered, bending down to retrieve the small silver knife from his right shoe. After both had made superficial cuts on their left forearms, Tony stepped back to let Sam pass and went in search of wash cloths, gauze, and tape to clean up with. When he returned from the bathroom, Sam was looking through his extensive movie collection._

_Sam glanced at Tony and gestured to the shelves of DVDS. "Where do you find the time?"_

_Tony shrugged and handed him the supplies. "You know how it is. You don't exactly get the best sleep when you know that nightmares are real. Add the crazy people I encounter on a regular basis to the mix, and it's a miracle I sleep at all."_

_Sam nodded and a brief silence ensued as the two men dressed their wounds. _

_"You up for that drink now?" Tony asked, securing the small gauze pad with tape. _

_Sam nodded. "Don't go easy on me, now," he called as Tony searched his kitchen cabinets. He walked past the sitting area, perching himself on a stool in front of the kitchen island. _

_Tony finally located some whiskey on the top shelf of a high cabinet and poured two tumblers full of the stuff. He took one for himself and passed the other across the counter to Sam. They both took rather large gulps of their drink._

_Tony grimaced at the burn in his throat. "Strong enough for ya?"_

_Sam grunted noncommittally._

_Tony took a breath and asked the question they'd both been dreading since Sam showed up at his door: "What happened? I know you guys headed off to gank this Dick guy, but…"_

_Sam took a deep breath and started in on the whole mess. A whole lot of minutes and a couple drinks later, Tony was caught up on the situation. Sam's voice shook by the end._

_"So, I have no idea where to even start looking for Dean or Cas, and you're…" He paused, eyes widening, "the only one left standing," Sam finished, turning pale at the realization. _

_"No that's not true, Sammy—"_

_"Don't lie to me, Tony." He drained the remainder of his glass and set it on the counter with a trembling hand. "Mom, Dad, Jo and Ellen, Ash, the Campbells, Bobby, Cas…" His voice gradually rose as he recounted the list of the dead, stopping abruptly when he could think of no one but his brother. Sam took a deep shuddering breath. "They're gone, Tony," He whispered, staring at the empty glass in front him._

_"Not him, Sam. He won't be gone forever," Tony said decidedly, draining his own drink._

_But Sam wasn't listening. He was growing paler by the second and mumbling something Tony couldn't hear. _

_"Sam!" Tony yelled, stepping up to his side. "Sam, what's wrong?" He asked desperately, holding the man by his shoulders._

_"Dean's gone," Sam whispered before collapsing into unconsciousness._

_When he opened his eyes again, Sam didn't say a word._

Dr. McBride entered Sam's room at a brisk pace, startling Tony out of his reverie. "Didn't expect you here so soon," he said, unclipping Sam's chart from the end of the bed and flipping through the first few pages.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Tony asked

"Well, I was under the impression that you had a job…"

"I do. It's just, this is Sam," he said, gesturing toward the bed.

"You _are_ aware that Sam's doing fine, right?"

"I don't know what you're seeing here, doc, but this doesn't seem 'fine' to me. And the nurse said something changed."

Dr. McBride replaced the chart at the end of the bed, and took out a small flashlight, moving up to check Sam's pupils. "Yeah, well something did change. He slipped back a little, but it's not unexpected." He held Sam's eyes open as he checked the reactions. "Didn't the nurse tell you that?"

Tony glanced down at the tile floor and huffed before he answered. "Well, she might have if I hadn't hung up and rushed over here before she could explain."

"Yeah, that might've helped," he said, pocketing the flashlight. "Well let me assure you that Sam's doing fine. He could probably even go home soon, as long as he's under supervision of course. He'll probably slip in and out of this blank state for some time before he's ready to come back to the land of the aware."

"How long do you think it'll be?" Tony asked. "You know, before he comes back?"

"Hard to tell. Sam came in here severely dehydrated and exhausted. He has recovered from those things as far as I can tell, but he's retreated into his mind. He's not going to come back until he feels safe again. Until he decides to come back."

Tony doubted if Sam had felt safe in a long time. The man "made a living" putting himself in harm's way. "So not for a while, then?"

Dr. McBride picked up the chart again and made a notation on it. "That depends on the circumstances surrounding the incident. Since you've refused to give any sort of definitive commentary on the subject, I can't even begin to guess at a prognosis."

"That's not my story to tell, doctor." _And you wouldn't believe me if I did tell you, _he added silently.

Dr. McBride replaced the chart. "Well he's certainly not talking." He gestured to Sam, who still stared blankly at the white wall in front of him. Dr. McBride's pager beeped and his eyes widened when he checked it. "Gotta go," he said, exiting the room at an almost-run.

Sam's heart monitor beeped steadily for a few moments before Tony decided his next move. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

(SPN/NCIS)

Gibbs walked into Director Vance's office, ignoring the half-hearted protests of his assistant. "Why is the FBI trying to take over my case?" he asked, sounding more demanding than questioning.

Vance suppressed a sigh, opting instead to take a breath before answering. "The killer's a serial, Gibbs. The M.O. matches a case that the FBI's been working on for months. It was all I could do to get them to let you stay on."

Gibbs opened his mouth to respond, but the tinny tune of the Ghostbusters' theme blared from somewhere behind Vance's desk. The odd ring tone coupled with the worried expression on the Director's face caused Gibbs to stay quiet.

Vance pulled his cell phone out of a pocket inside his gray suit jacket. He flipped it open. "Director Vance."

"Someone there, Vance?" Tony asked from his end of the line.

"You could say that, yes," he answered, almost smirking at Gibbs' curious expression. "In fact, I was just about to ask Gibbs to leave," he said pointedly, raising his eyebrows at the man. Gibbs walked slowly toward the exit, still listening to Vance's side of the conversation.

"Gibbs is there? Is he mad at me for leaving the crime scene?"  
"Oh, he's mad about something," Vance said, purely for Gibbs' benefit. "But not at you, I don't think."

Gibbs had reached the door and paused briefly at Vance's statement, turning back and tilting his head slightly in confusion. Vance pointed at the door, and Gibbs reluctantly exited the office.

"If he's not mad at me, who _is_ he mad at?" Tony asked.

"The FBI mostly. The victim at the park could've been done in by a serial killer they've been trying to catch for a while. They're taking over the case."

"That doesn't bode well for anyone involved," Tony said, flinching a little in anticipation of Gibbs' inevitable bad mood.

"That's an understatement," Vance said, adjusting his tie. "Now, what is it you really called me for? Is Sam okay?"

"Sam… well, he's as good as can be expected." Tony glanced at the now- sleeping man in the hospital bed next to him and sighed. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Okay," Vance said, unsure where this was going.

"Sammy's gonna be stickin' around for a while, so I'm thinking we're gonna need to up our game."

"Up our game?"

"Yeah, too many people are getting curious already. We need a back story for our boys. It won't be long before Gibbs starts looking for answers. McGee and Ziva too. Fake names aren't enough for this."

Vance fiddled with his tie some more. "I agree that we are going to need something more here, but why the both of them?"

"Because it'll make the story more believable. I've been thinking about this for quite a while, but to pull it off we'll need some pretty convincing files. That's where you come in…" Tony launched into the cover story he'd concocted, barely stopping for breath while he talked. Vance helped iron out some kinks and got to work entering the fake information into the database. All that was left was to cross their fingers and hope that it threw Team Gibbs off the scent long enough for Sam to recover.

A/N: In case you care, I am sorry for the delay. Life happens. Anyway, Vance's involvement wasn't planned. I didn't even know I was going to continue this, but my muse wouldn't let go of it, and Vance just sort of popped in there. I hope you liked it, even though it's mostly a setup chapter. We'll get some action in the next chapter, I promise. Thank you for the encouraging reviews and follows and everything.


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